


Hurts So Good

by PrincexRaven



Series: Kill me or save me [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fucked Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masochism, Not for kiddies, Pain, Painplay, Sadism, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, bad combo, could be read as a prequel to landslide, don't let your kids read it, glanni is a couple years older than robbie, glanni is sadistic and fucked up, glatten - Freeform, im so fucked up lol, implied eating disorder, projecting again, robbie and glanni are not related, robbie has problems, this is a whole mess lmfao, this is before and during robbie meeting and falling in love with sportacus, very slightly but it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincexRaven/pseuds/PrincexRaven
Summary: Robbie wants to hurt. Glanni is happy to help.





	Hurts So Good

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for everything TTuTT  
> This is mainly me projecting my own relationship with sex and self harm and my eating disorder onto Robbie again. (Also because I'm attracted to Glanni to hell and back and would let him do this to me and of course who suffers? Robbie)

‘Just make it hurt’.

Robbie sure does love to make his begging sound like a demand.

Of course, Glanni thinks, I can make this hurt as much as you want. I’m better than your favorite blade, even more breathtakingly intimate.

You can never hurt yourself as much as you’d let me hurt you, after all.

It’s always been this way. Since Robbie was, what? Fifteen? Sixteen? It didn’t matter. He had been cute, once he’d managed to ruffle all his curls out of place and make tears well in his pretty grey eyes. He was still cute now, in a way that made Glanni smile with that grin of his that was all sharp teeth.

He supposed young Robbie secretly admired him a bit. Glanni was nasty, but he was proud of that. He’d handed Robbie his first lipstick, watched his trembling hands as he applied it, then smeared it all over his face with his dick. Did Robbie want to be like him, brave enough to wear high heels and heavy makeup, brave enough to sneer at everybody else, to admit with a laugh the people he’d been sleeping with, and the men among those people? Glanni liked to think so.

“Make it hurt”, Robbie said, always, invariably, no longer feeling the tug of fear at the way Glanni’s eyes gleamed when he said that. 

And Glanni would.

He’d dig his fingernails so hard over the scars on Robbie’s thighs that he would leave chips of dark purple polish inside of the ones that were still halfway open and sticky, and Robbie would claw his hands over Glanni’s shoulders and bite his lip to stifle a scream, taste the blood to stifle the shame welling in his throat when his body reacted to this sort of intimate pain the way it did. He’d bite, savagely, like a wild animal (and really, Robbie supposed that Glanni was just that), his thighs again, his hips, over the bone where it was pointed, his stomach, his collarbone, his neck, everywhere at his chest and on his nipples, leaving a trail of purple marks in his wake, sometimes looking up to grin at him with a drop of blood on his painted lip. He liked it better when it hurt like this than when Glanni was mockingly gentle with him, softly prying him open with those long fingers, almost as if he cared for him, and it was a different kind of hurt, the way his chest ached, and Glanni knew this was the best way of getting him to cry, to writhe and moan and beg, and if Glanni loved something, that was control, and in this way, Robbie was relinquishing it.

Glanni always laughed when Robbie begged. He did so anyway, when the fingers were all of a sudden too much and not enough, thrashing his legs about and fisting at the bedsheets until his knuckles were white and you could see each individual tendon over the first joint of his fingers, the tears that Glanni loved so much rolling freely down his cheeks, before so pale and now blotchy red. ‘Fuck me, just fuck me’ he half moaned, and half cried, and Glanni, after drawing it out for a bit, was more than happy to oblige.  
He’d usually start with Robbie laying on his back, legs spread wide, all open and beautiful and scarred, sometimes taking his cruelty as far as raising up Robbie’s right arm with a sort of abominable tenderness, and licking each and every scar, no matter how recent, while slowly entering Robbie. It makes him feel almost loved, and he knows that it’s a lie, so he presses his own free hand into the ones in his thighs, the fresher the better, sometimes forcing them reopened and relishing in the feeling of warm blood staining his fingertips.

In the end, Glanni always gets as rough as Robbie wants him to. He turns him around and fucks him right into the mattress, one hair yanking firmly on a fistful of mussed curls, the other digging into the tender pale scarred flesh of Robbie’s thighs (those hurt the best, after all, the higher up the better, and he knows and Robbie knows, and if he draws blood Robbie’s lust for pain will be all the more sated), and Robbie just bites down into a pink pillow and sobs his heart out and hopes all this pain will wash off the guilt he feels when, again invariably, his own cum sputters and stains his belly and the sheets. He usually lets Glanni come in his face too, just so the sting of humiliation will complete the exhaustion of both body and mind.

Robbie knows why he enjoys doing this, but he can’t quite put it into words. Glanni doesn’t know why, or he doesn’t want to, but every time Robbie comes by (younger than him, more frail despite his height, so fragile he’s already broken, and Glanni knows how he got the sore throat and raw knuckles, and each and every time there are fresher scars where Glanni will press) and asks him to fuck him and make it hurt, he does.

Maybe if Glanni was better, he’d have guided Robbie when he came to him as a teenager. Told him that what he felt was not real, that the shame he knew was there was unnecessary, that he’s not wrong, that he doesn’t need to make himself bleed to clean a filth that never existed in the first place. Maybe he would have asked what happened before Robbie showed up at his place for the first time, how Robbie already knew what to do when he first got in bed with Glanni. Maybe he would’ve told him there was no need for it to hurt.

Instead, he did and does what Robbie demands (begs) and asks no questions. Robbie leaves bloody, bruised, fucked, hurt and satisfied, until the next time. And he always comes back, with the same plea disguised as command on his lips.

‘Fuck me, and make it hurt’.

And Glanni does. And it hurts so, so good.


End file.
